Azeneth Petree
by soberloki
Summary: ONESHOT. Severus Snape has a strange encounter of the electronic kind. SS.HP, MPREG if you squint.


**Author's Notes:** This is a response to a prompt challenge at http/community. a community devoted to oddness in the Harry Potter fandom. In particular, this challenge involved fantabulous names gleaned from spam email, and in a blind draw, I got Ms. Petree. Well, I _assume_ Azeneth Petree is a she...

**A/N 2:** I work without a beta. Please do point out any glaring errors or stupidities? Thanks, folks.

**Azeneth Petree**

The girl seemed too... polished, in Severus' opinion. Shiny, almost. She smiled too much, on top of her basic strangeness, and he sincerely wished she would leave the doorway of his private quarters. And what sort of name was Azeneth Petree?

_It sounds Dark_, Severus mused dopily, having been awakened from a sound sleep by her persistent knocking. _Or maybe American_.

"Mister Severus Snape, have you found in these past few years that you've lost a bit of the kick in your step? Have you felt the effects of depression, or perhaps you're plagued by Seasonal Affective Disorder?"

"I'm _plagued_, as you so aptly put it, by _you_," Severus snapped.

Azeneth fixed her inane grin more firmly, and _winked_ at him.

"Is it something more _intimate_ that troubles you, Mister Snape? Something you've never told anyone, not even your closest friends?"

"Are you under a curse?" Severus ventured stiffly, but the girl didn't respond to the question.

"We've got pills for mood disorders, erectile dysfunction, and more!" she chirped manically. "All of the most popular and effective formulations, at specially reduced prices, only for you; only through this special offer. What do you say? Won't you try the Wiagra? The Effixor? What about the ephedrine-free FatBlast?"

_That_, Severus decided, _is the last straw_.

"Did you call me fat, Miss Petree?" he rumbled darkly, scowling. "I'll have you know I was voted Most Fit _twice_ by my Dark colleagues, over Lucius-bloody-Malfoy! I'm not suffering from a mood disorder, I'm simply incapable of viewing the idiocy with which I am surrounded in a cheerful good humor, unlike _some_ Wizards I know! And I do _not_ have erectile dysfunction! What sort of person are you, asking such intimate questions of a man you've only just met? Did Rita Skeeter send you?"

Azeneth beamed gleefully at him. "Perhaps you'd be interested in helping someone less fortunate, Mister Snape? In Nigeria, as we speak, the widow of a high-ranking official is trying to -"

"Enough!" roared Severus.

"The command is delete."

Severus whirled around and glared at Harry Potter. "What are you talking about?"

Harry blushed. _Rather fetchingly_, Severus observed, but kept his scowl firmly in place.

"It's the mail, Severus. Email. Erm, electronic mail. Minerva set it up for the Muggleborn students, it's supposed to open at a window for them, but we don't have any windows... are you going to hex me?"

"Are _you_ going to tell _her_ I don't have any erectile dysfunction?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Er, what?"

"She accused me, Mister Potter, of not being able to get it up. Is this your idea of a joke? I do not find it amusing to be accused of _failing in bed!"_

Harry grimaced and banished Azeneth Petree to the Junk Folder, really a smallish room in the West Tower that Filch was going to have some difficulty cleaning. Junk messages tended to want to remain in the system for some reason Minerva hadn't been able to figure out yet.

"Severus, that was a spam message. They address whomever they see first. Did you give it your name when you saw it?"

Severus glared. "She introduced herself. It's rude not to offer your name in return."

_Of all the times for him to display proper manners..._ "Don't repond to them at all. Command them to delete, and they'll go away."

"She accused me of being fat. Everyone thinks I'm a whale; I _knew_ it."

Harry suppressed a groan. "You're not, love; you've never been fat and you haven't _become_ fat. You're perfect."

Severus launched into a tirade bearing on such diverse topics as the lack of proper etiquette in society recently, his desire to see all Muggle inventions left strictly to the Muggles, and his absolute conviction that he would never again be sexy to anyone, especially his domestic partner, and _why_ couldn't they be properly married anyway, when the bloody Americans could do it?

Harry sighed and summoned Dobby. "We'll have our breakfast now, Dobby, and would you mention to Minerva, please, that we need to talk about improving the filters on the new mail system?"

_Two months. Just two more months._


End file.
